


Aetatis

by Alana_Me



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Humor, Drama, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderswap, Hashirama is wily, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trust Issues, kicking and screaming but adapting, kind of, madara can adapt to anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alana_Me/pseuds/Alana_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hashirama wakes up as a child again, he vows to protect his family and form a truce with the Uchiha sooner. When Madara wakes up in the same situation as a girl, he wonders why the gods hate him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Aetatis

-at the age of-

.

.

.

Chapter one, Eighty Years and Change

.

.

.

.

Kaguya screamed as she was sealed up, her will clinging to her tightly. It was unable to escape as it had done millennia ago.

This was unacceptable. This was unacceptable. She'd been free, and now she was to be sealed again, by the two who reminded her of those traitorous children she should never have bore into the world.

There was a flicker of something vaguely familiar at the edge of her senses, a soul recently dead. Her eyes widened as she recognized the one who'd briefly acted as her vessel, and her shadowy will whispered the name, and Kaguya smiled. With her diminishing power, she took hold of the fleeting soul, subduing its struggles.

Perhaps she could use her vessel a second time.

She molded the soul, and flung it into a time where it could free her again.

.

Tajima Uchiha woke up to the panicked cries of the midwives. Crashes and thuds marked pandemonium, and above it all, a baby's wail. He would have gone back to sleep - this was his fourth child, his wife should know how to handle birthing at this point - but closer attention to the screams had him throwing the covers off and sprinting to the birthing room.

Youkai. What child had his wife brought forth?

By the time he arrived, the noise had calmed down. The midwives, kneeling on either side of his wife, looked at him, white with fear - or shock - but silent. He laid eyes on his tired wife next, and made his way over to her and the bundle in her arms.

He looked down and paled. The child had bone-white hair, and its eyes were screwed shut with tears. A thin, puckered line slashed vertically across its forehead, looking almost like a third eyelid.

"What happened?" he demanded. His wife looked up at him, face gaunt and tired.

"I don't know," the admission startled him more than he would admit, as the woman always seemed to have an answer to everything. Sighing, she pushed the child into his arms - which was also out of character, as he'd previously waited until his sons were able to wield weapons before interacting with them.

"Your daughter," his wife pronounced, sounding anything but happy. "Madara Uchiha."

.

Konoha looked warped from Hashirama's position far above it, but he smiled when he saw the new generation file out of the school he'd built. The loudest child with bright hair was surely Minato's grandson, and Hashirama looked towards the Hokage mountain to see the face of his own grandchild etched in stone.

He turned to the Sage of Six Paths, floating next to him. "You're sending me back in time? I think things have worked out quite well."

Hagaromo was silent, worry clouding his ancient features. At last, he said, "There are different times. Different universes. It is one of these that I am sending you to, at a time you would be familiar with."

The scene shifted, and the sound of battle filled the air. Hashirama's face fell when he saw the Senju and Uchiha symbols emblazoned on armor and weapons. Even after all these years, he remembered the battlefield with perfect clarity, could almost smell the stench of blood in the air.

"Any other time," he pleaded, but the Sage shook his head and looked at him with something akin to sympathy. "What am I to do? End the war sooner?"

"If you wish," the Sage said. "But that is not a concern. Humans will always have conflict," he adds at Hashirama's appalled look. "There is something tainted in this era. It could be nothing, but it could also mean chaos."

"So you're sending me to that miserable era on a hunch?" Hashirama demanded.

"No," the Sage said sharply. "Do not trivialize this. I ignored the existence of my mother's will before, believing it was too weak to cause harm, and look what it managed to do."

The battlefield shifted into Kaguya's image, suspended in the air above the trapped forms of hundreds of dying ninja.

Hashirama's lips thinned. "But you don't know what it is I'm meant to stop?"

"No. Once you leave this place, you will not even remember this conversation," Hashirama opened his mouth to protest, but the Sage continued, "It is the strength and experience you have now that you shall need if the taint causes something of this magnitude."

He slumped, red armored plates clinking. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No." The Sage said flatly, and Hashirama closed his eyes.

.

When Hashirama Senju woke and realized he was twelve years old again, he knew what he had to do, even if he had no idea how he'd ended up there or if it was all a genjutsu. He gathered a miniature Tobirama and Itama in his arms, despite his brothers' many protests, and told them very calmly that he would protect them all, and he wouldn't let anything happen to them and they would all live in the nice village he'd made together with the enemy clan who had just burned their other brother to crisp the other day, which he wouldn't let happen to them, by the way.

Itama had stared at him with wide, watery eyes at the mention of Kawarama and Tobirama had whacked him on the head and told him to stop being so weird in the middle of the night when everyone just wanted peace.

Then Tobirama had rolled over and gone back to sleep, while Hashirama hugged Itama and giggled a little maniacally, promising that this time was going to be perfect and there was no way he would be killed by several adult Uchiha who shouldn't have been ganging up on a little kid in the first place.

Several weeks later, Hashirama was black and blue from defying his father one too many times, and Tobirama was shaking his head.

"I swear, it's like you woke up stupider one day," his little brother said in disgust, although his concern was poorly masked. He scowled and swatted Hashirama's hand away when he reached over to ruffle his hair.

"Father's obstinate. We need a truce, so we can have peace and children can stop dying."

"And how are you going to manage that?"

"I'm going to make a truce with the Uchiha," he said determinedly. Tobirama looked doubtful, but resigned.

"Fine, just be more subtle about it, will you?"

Hashirama laughed sheepishly.

He supposed declaring peace at a war meeting he'd barged in on may not have been the best way to deal with things.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

Aetatis

_-at the age of-_

.

.

Chapter 2

.

.

Tajima woke at the presence of someone outside his room. Shouldering a kama, he crept to the door and opened it just enough to see through. There was a figure on the porch, back to him, dark head tilted toward the sky. Tajima sighed upon recognizing his daughter.

He slid open the door completely and joined her, sitting heavily on the porch.

"What are you looking at?"

She glanced at him, eyes Sharingan red and spinning. A few months ago, the sight would have jarred him.

"The moon," she said, and turned back towards it.

Tajima leaned back and looked at his daughter, wondering. At six years old, she was still tiny, but he could see the calluses on her small hands and the firm muscles building under baby fat. Women generally became healers in the Clan, with only minor training to defend themselves with. But none of the women had wanted to train the devil child, and his wife was too busy with the new baby - no, not a baby, Izuna should be three or four by now.

His daughter's dark hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back in messy spikes, and that was about the only feature he could recognize that came from him. He couldn't see any of his or his wife's features in the girl. She had generic Uchiha looks - pale skin, dark hair, coal-black eyes that bled into red, but other than that, he couldn't spot anything familiar in her wide eyes and delicate features.

Tajima frowned, and remembered thinking she would be a sickly child considering the looks she'd been born with, but that hadn't been the case. She'd grown healthy and much more aware than his other children. Within months after her birth, Madara's hair had grown in thick and black - his wife had shorn off the white edges - over the scarring he'd once thought to resemble a third eyelid. Perhaps it was gone by now. He'd never asked.

She didn't look like a devil child anymore, but her manner was still unsettling. The child had been too quiet as a baby, never crying, and staring up at the moon when it was full. He remembered his wife, at her wit's end, telling him hysterically that Madara's first word had been _Kaguya_ of all things.

A child touched by the gods, he'd thought fleetingly. But there was a vicious glint in his daughter's eyes sometimes that made him revise that opinion.

Her growth hadn't lessened her oddness. At times, she was pliant as a doll, letting her caretakers dress her in kimonos and absorbing etiquette lessons blandly. But every so often, her dazed stare would sharpen and she'd trudge outside, shed the kimono for male clothing - usually her brother's - and train viciously until her hands were raw and bleeding and she'd surpassed trainees twice her age.

And then she'd go back inside and sit at the tea table like nothing had happened.

Her latest outburst, as he had come to call them, had somehow ended in Madara awakening the sharingan. He remembered staring at his eldest in disbelief when he'd announced that his _five year old sister_ now had a Sharingan. And once she had activated it, there was no persuading her to turn it off. So now Tajima's five year old was six, and had the same number of _tomoe_ spinning in her irises.

He realized that he paid more attention to his daughter than his other children, and so had they. His sons weren't the envious sort though, and he'd told them, when they'd complained once, that if they wanted attention they should be as strong as their odd brat of a sister was.

That was the last conversation he'd had with his second son before he'd died in the battlefield, less than a week ago. It was one he regretted, but his duties as Clan Head meant that he was not able to grieve too long. More practical problems required his attention - his men were holding their own against the Senju, but they were thinning out. He needed _more_ if the Uchiha were to win the war.

He looked at his daughter again. Perhaps...

 _No. Not yet. But eventually,_ he promised himself _._

_._

_._

Hashirama leaned against his tenth attempt at Mokuton, a thin sapling sprouting brown leaves.

Time travel wasn't something that Hashirama had given much thought to. It seemed impossible, and taking hypothetical situations and turning them into reality had been more Tobirama's forte than his. For his part, he had simply tried to live his life with as few regrets as possible (and still ended up with many).

Waking up in the past after being, according to Sarutobi in the afterlife, eighty years dead was an entirely unexpected miracle. It wouldn't be a particularly easy time to live in, but he could change things for the better. There were so many things he could do. End the war with peace sooner, no matter how many beatings his father doled out when he brought up the subject. He could protect Itama this time, even if it was too late for Kawarama and their mother. He could make sure Izuna lived and Tobirama never tattled on him and Madara this time around.

Which. Which he could do _right then._

If he could get to Madara, and make sure that their Clans never found out until they were both in positions to make an alliance happen, then perhaps this time -

Hashirama bolted up in excitement and scanned his surroundings, sensing for chakra. There was no one near, and Tobirama was with their father, so that meant training.

He turned and ran to the river,  a grin spreading across his face.

.

.

Tobirama bit back a cry as his back smashed into the wooden poles that were normally used as target practice.

He pushed himself to his knees on shaky arms, spat out the blood pooling in his mouth. That was half a dozen losses in only twice as many minutes. A shadow fell over him, but he refused to look up in favor of cradling his possibly-cracked ribs.

"Get up," Butsuma said, voice hard with disapproval. "How do you expect to face the enemy if you can't handle this much?"

Tobirama held back a retort and grabbed the pole, slowly pulling himself up. He met his father's glare evenly, trying not to quail, and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. He glanced at the back of his hand, now smeared with red. There was more than he'd expected.

Butsuma stood with deceptive casualness, but his narrowed eyes told a different story.

Butsuma was used to training his brother who, no matter how much he whined or came up with odd notions, was a powerhouse and a natural fighter. But recently, Hashirama had grown bolder, more reckless, and their careful relationship had soured. So Butsuma had turned to Tobirama, expecting him to have his brother's power, albeit with the same reticence that had saved Tobirama and his brothers from many beatings.

He hadn't measured up.

He barely managed to dodge the shuriken that had been aimed at his temple. The blade scratched his skin, and Tobirama held back a curse as blood flowed down the side of his face.

Butsuma gave him a long look, then turned to leave. "That's enough for today."

"Father - I can still - " Tobirama scrambled up, half-hunched over with his arm pressing against his ribs. Butsuma looked back, dark eyes glaring. Those eyes were laced with barely concealed disgust, proclaiming Tobirama useless. In those eyes, Tobirama was little more than a dissatisfying tool. (Itama and Kawarama were even less. Had the man even grieved when his youngest had died?)

Tobirama fought back tears.

He wasn't weak, he _wasn't_ , but he didn't have Hashirama's monstrous strength. Tobirama's strengths lay in creativity and strategy, thinking so far outside the box that he could improve age-old jutsu used by their ancestors. Useful traits, but none that his father cared about. The only thing of worth in Butsuma's eyes was how high one's chakra level was. With one powerhouse son that fulfilled and surpassed those expectations, his other children would never be able to measure up, were little more than fodder.

And Tobirama couldn't help but hate his brother for that, a little.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and special thanks to those who left kudos, comments, and bookmarks.


	3. Chapter 3

Life seemed hazy to Madara, a blur of colors and indistinct voices.

The only thing clear and certain, the only thing that mattered, was the glowing light of the moon.

The days slipped by like water through (her? no. ) fingers. Madara let them.

There were sometimes images that came in too-bright flashes. A river and a boy. Dragons made of wood. Chakra with a fox's form. And the clearest, so bright it almost blinded; the moon and a woman with a glowing red eye.

Rarer images - two children, so talented and so ungrateful, a chaotic world that needed peace.

What was vaguely recognized as _lifenowpresent_ came in flashes as well. Attentive father - although sometimes, in some flashes, that wasn't right either - who stayed up to watch the moon together. A mother who wanted nothing to do with children - _no not_ children _just me_ \- or was it a dead mother?

Three older brothers, two now - the youngest doting, eldest distant, middle curious-no,not anymore. A younger brother, too young to have a distinct personality - no, precious younger brother, I love him, dead younger brother -

The days slipped by like water. Madara let them.

And then, one day, he woke up.

.

.

_Hashirama was running though the forest, towards where he knew the Uchiha encampment was and he knew he'd probably die in as things were._

_It didn't seem to matter at the moment._

Please, _he thought desperately._ Please don't be...

.

.

Madara stared at his reflection.

Or what should have been his reflection and was now very much female, unless he'd grown fond of cross dressing.

"Izuna," he said as calmly as possible, holding back a wince at the high voice. Izuna stood behind him warily. Understandable, seeing as he'd just destroyed their shared room, convinced that it was some kind of genjutsu, before his ego inserted itself and assured him that no genjutsu could catch him off guard.

"How old did you say I was again?'

"Um. Ten," his little brother said cautiously. "Did you hit your head or something?"

Madara took a deep breath to hold back the scream building up.

Was he really back in the past, with a completely different set of genitals? It had crossed his mind that perhaps the future-world he'd seen was the genjutsu and he wasn't as powerful as he believed, but he'd quickly discarded the notion. That world had been far more real than this odd reality.

But that left several questions - how had he gotten here? Why was he a woman?

What could he do with this opportunity?

"Izuna." he said in sudden realization.

"...yes?" said his brother, who had been edging towards the door.

"You're _alive._ "

Izuna started screaming hysterically when Madara launched him(her?)self at him and hugged him with an inch of his life.

Madara was a bit insulted when their father, drawn by the commotion, admitted that he completely understood Izuna's reaction.

.

_"What do you mean Itama ran away?"_

_"He went after the Uchiha."_ Because of the stupid ideas you put in his head, _went unspoken._

_Hashirama couldn't be bothered to argue. "Alone? How long has it been since he left?"_

_"Hours. He slipped by the night patrol."_

_"Haven't you sent anyone after him?"_

_"It's been too long. He's dead by now."_

_._

_._

Madara went to the river. First, every week. Then twice a week. Then every day, for hours on end.

She scanned the trees with her Sharingan, waiting for that bowl-top, or maybe even a flash of white.

They never came.

.

.

She didn't remember the exact date she met Senju Hashirama. It seemed like it could have been that day, though.

The Hagaromo corpse floated by her, mocking.

.

.

The trees stayed green, her chakra senses dull.

And then Madara lost patience.

.

Three months later, Hashirama Senju reached an epiphany, and made for the river. By the time he arrived, there was nothing left of the clearing but ash.

 

***

 

Hashirama was in a foul mood the whole day. He picked fights with the elders, with his father. Snapped about dead children and the uselessness of war, ready to pick a fight with anything and anyone.

"What is wrong with you?" Tobirama demanded, pulling him away after a hastily executed apology at their older cousin.

"Nothing," he said.

Even if Madara still snuck out of the Uchiha Clan's settlement on a regular basis, he would no longer go to the now-charred river. Hashirama didn't have any way of contacting him, save a miracle or incredible coincidence - until, at the soonest, they met on the battlefield. It might be too late to form a friendship by then. He scowled and shook Tobirama off.

.

.

After a particularly harsh row involving death and child soldiers and the idiocy of the clan in general, Butsuma left him in charge of his brothers' training as some form of punishment.

"They're right, though. Kawarama died because he was weak," Itama said quietly, putting down the waterskin he had been drinking from.

Hashirama made an irritated noise, the taste of ash still bitter on his tongue. If he ever found who destroyed the forest... "Don't speak that way," he said, a little more sharply, a little more dismissively, than intended. "And get back to your training."

Itama shrunk back and fell silent, while Tobirama shot him a distasteful look.

.

.

 _And if Hashirama had been paying more attention, if he hadn't dismissed his brother's words so easily, if he'd only_ remembered _the circumstances last time..._

_He cursed as he tore through the trees, hoping against hope that his brother was still alive._

_._

.

There was a ruckus.

It was a routine patrol, carried out more out of habit than necessity - there were few stupid enough to wander into the Uchiha Clan's encampment. Or few arrogant enough. On the nights they did, it proved entertaining.

"Sister," Madara's third brother called out in a loud, carrying voice, not bothering with stealth. Minimal threat, then. "Come and see what we found."

He and her cousins shifted where they were gathered, allowing her to see the small form flattened against the bolder, kunai held tightly in a trembling, white-knuckled hand.

"Well," she said softly, feeling a slightly-manic grin stretch her face. Her cousins shot her wary looks, but her elder brother looked distinctly pleased. "What have we here?"

Madara's eyes gleamed red as she took in the cowering Senju child.

.

.

Damn, _Hashirama thought, tearing through the trees._

_He could hear Tobirama and Toka not far behind. Damn the war. The elders, for not caring. His father, for not sending anyone after Itama. The Uchiha, for killing his brother. And himself. Because despite knowing this would happen, despite everything - he was a fool._

_"He's been gone for hours," Tobirama said somewhere behind him, voice breaking off where his composure fractured. "We won't make it."_

_Damn them all to hell._

.

.

She dangled a stone between her fingers, and eyed the smooth pool. Tossed it over the edge.

Skip. One. Two.

The moon's reflection scattered under the rippling water.

.

.

They found Itama tied to a tree, eyes glazed in the effects of a genjutsu. Alive.

Hashirama ran to him with a cry, heedless or uncaring for the possible danger.

Tobirama lingered back, eyes darting to the trees, senses stretched as far as he was able.

"Is it a trap?" Toka said lowly.

"I don't know," he replied, hand tightening around his shuriken. "Be ready for anything."

"What were you thinking!?"

Tobirama jumped at the shout and bit back a curse, stalking over to his brothers as quickly and quietly as he dared. Hashirama had untied Itama and somehow released him from the illusion, and was now berating him. Loudly.

"Will you shut up?" Tobirama hissed when he finally reached them, jerking his brother to face him. "What if someone hears you? This could be an ambush for all we know!"

Hashirama cocked his head, spared a cursory glance at their surroundings. "Maybe. But for now, there's no one here but us."

"You don't know that - "

"It's just us," Hashirama repeated, waving a hand dismissively. Tobirama seethed. He glanced back to see that Toka had disappeared, likely hiding in the trees in preparation to attack if the Uchiha came. At least one of them was being sensible. "Itama, what happened?"

"How are you still alive?" he cut in. Hashirama glared, but motioned for Itama to answer the question.

"I don't know, I don't - " he shook his head, and something in his eyes cleared. "The Uchiha girl told the others to let me go. She said -"

"Impossible - any Uchiha would have killed you," Tobirama said, voice laced with suspicion.

"Tobirama," Hashirama said sharply. He turned to back to their youngest. "Go on."

Itama looked up, and there was something strange in his eyes. "There was this girl. She said--"

.

.

" _T_ _ell Senju Hashirama he owes me one_ ," _hissed into his ear, before he was plunged into a world of black-red horrors._

.

.

The stone clattered against the pebbles on the other side.

"Konoha," Madara mused, and she laughed.

.

.

**Thank you to all those who left kudos and comments.**


	4. Chapter 4

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The kunai hit their mark each time. She was running out of targets, really, and if the presence behind her wouldn't stop skulking around, she would not be responsible for her actions.

"You know," Takeshi finally said. "We could have grilled him for information."

"He was a child," Madara said, ignoring her brother's muttered _so are you._ "The deal I made was much better. Trust me." _With Hashirama indebted to me..._

"Fine," he said, sighing theatrically. He ruffled her hair. "Just don't start getting soft on rival clans now--"

"As _if._ " She took the opportunity to relieve him of his weapons pouch.

He grabbed her wrist. "I'm serious, you know. The war is getting worse, and there's every chance you'll be going into battle soon. You can't afford any weakness."

"I won't," she said, shaking him off, and threw the kunai without looking. It lodged itself firmly in the training dummy's head. "You know me."

He looked at her for a long moment, and when she looked back she could see her red eyes reflected in his dark ones. "Yeah," he said, huffing a laugh that was more resigned than amused. "I know you."

***

The trees growing along the riverbank were pulsing with his brother's chakra. Tobirama watched as half a dozen saplings sprouted from the ground and rapidly grew until flowers blossomed on their tiny branches.

Across the river, Hashirama squatted in a horse stance, hands forming seals before him.

"You know, most people vent by punching things." Tobirama said tactfully.

"What use would that be?" his brother's voice was strained.

"What use is gardening?" he countered.

"I'm practicing chakra control."

Speaking of chakra, Hashirama's was starting to spark and waver. "You'll pass out, you know."

Another dozen saplings sprang up, before they splintered and rained down in jagged wood chips.

Hashirama wiped sweat from his brow. "Fine. That's enough of a workout for today, I guess."

Tobirama nodded slowly, turning to examine the acres of new forest around them, and strove to keep his face as blank as possible. "It does seem somewhat adequate."

His brother shot him a dirty look, evidently too tired to walk over and slap him upside the head, and motioned for him to come closer. He complied, but sat out of arm's reach.

"Did father call for me?" Hashirama asked, his voice muffled by the towel he was pressing to his face.

Tobirama nodded. "Yes, actually. He's been looking for you for the better part of the morning, but that's not why I'm here."

"Oh?"

He wondered how to phrase it in the least offensive way, then gave up andn went for the kill. "There's something wrong with you. You need to get your act together, before we're sent out and you're killed."

Hashirama picked up a pebble and turned it over in his hands. "I'm fine," he waved impatiently when Tobirama looked pointedly at the forest. "Well, not fine, but I _will be._ Itama's the one who needs support."

Their father had been alternately ignoring and screaming at Itama since they'd returned, but..."He deserves it." Hashirama stayed silent, and Tobirama, knowing his brother, said, " _What_ could possibly make you think it's your fault?"

"I don't," Hashirama said, staring intently at his sandals.

"Right," Tobirama said, but saw no need to push. If his brother wanted to blame himself for everything that happened, fine. He was too stubborn to be convinced otherwise anyway.

"He should have been paying more attention to his surroundings," Hashirama changed the subject, staring at the river. "All he can talk about is that girl."

"He sounds like he has a crush, actually."

His brother grunted, picking up a pebble and twisting it between his fingers.

"He's not the only one," Tobirama pointed out.

"What?" The pebble stilled.

"The way you've been grilling him," he picked a newly grown flower, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "I think you're looking for someone in the Uchiha clan. Who?"

Hashirama looked at him darkly, and he fought the urge to flinch. His brother tossed the pebble without looking, and stood. "Sometimes, Tobirama, you are too perceptive for your own good."

His brother walked away. The pebble clattered on the other side of the river bank.

 ***

Tea, Tajima reveled, was a truly amazing invention. The boiled leaves calmed his nerves and the heated liquid soothed his throat. More importantly, the length and width of the cup obscured his vision when he tipped it back, allowing for little eye contact with his irate wife.

"What were you thinking?"

Tajima sipped his tea.

"I can't _believe_ you did this! And you didn't even tell me?"

He had several answers and justifications (excuses) in his mind, but long years of marriage had taught him that in any and all arguments, the best course of action was to apologize, nod, and agree to everything his wife said.

"I'm sorry."

She glared at him. "Well, it's not _me_ you need to apologize to, is it?"

Tajima sensed that the answer his wife was looking for and the answer that would allow him to sleep in their own compound without worrying about being castrated were two very different things. So he thought it was better to say nothing. He sipped his tea.

"She's eleven."

"Eleven is an adequate age," he said.

"I just don't understand it. You always baby her -"

"I doubt allowing her to become a ninja counts as -"

"You know what I mean," she said. "You let your daughter -"

"Our," he interjected.

" _Our_ daughter have anything she wants. She wanted to train, you let her. She wanted to patrol - even though she was _far too young_ , you let her. She wants to go to battle now, and _you will let her._ So why won't you let her decide her own _life_?"

"It's just a betrothal," Tajima soothed. "There's every chance that it could fall through, or we can simply call it off later on if we no longer need the allies."

" _And if it doesn't?_ "

"Our marriage was arranged," he reminded her. "Most are."

"And yet, my daughter and I are very different people," his wife said stiffly. "I knew that it was my duty to marry you. _Her_ duty lies on the battlefield, and you know it."

"Weren't you opposed to that?"

Her face seemed to be stuck in a permanent glare. Granted, his clan did have a penchant for permanent, soul-searing glares, but his wife seemed rather better at it than most. "I didn't want her to go into it this young, but I'm not blind, Tajima. Madara is _good_ , and she'll grow to be better. She won't be able to do that if she's stuck birthing babes for some thankless,  _stupid_ husband."

"I.. didn't realize you felt so strongly about this." Tajima said, letting the jibe slide. He knew that his wife hadn't been exactly thrilled to go through with their marriage, one of the negative factors being that he was much older than her, but he thought she'd come to be happy with their family...

She looked at him frostily. "I've birthed eight children, three of whom died before they drew their first breath. My mother birthed twelve. My body is ravaged, and my living children are trained to be slaughtered on the battlefield." She sighed, and some of the coldness in her voice disappeared. "Husband, I've accepted my role, and I am content with my children and the duties I must perform. Our daughter isn't like that. I don't want this for her, Tajima."

"I didn't realize the two of you were close enough for you to know what she is or isn't like," he said flatly. His wife winced.

"I may not have paid as much attention to her as I should have," she admitted. "She was born unnatural - I was scared, and by the time I stopped being scared, she didn't need me anymore. But I do care about her, and I _know_ that she is more to the Clan than just a bargaining chip for brokering an alliance."

"Is that what you think you were?" Tajima said, reaching for her hand.

She waved him off impatiently. "This isn't about me. What does Madara think about this _betrothal_ anyway? I'd wager she wasn't exactly pleased."

Silence.

"She doesn't _know?"_

Tajima sipped his tea.


End file.
